


Whispering to the void

by Moonlight_Hyperfixations



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast), The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Anabelle Cane is Jon's Aunt, Asexual Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Autistic Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Autistic Sasha James, Basira Hussain is Ashes O'Reilly, Blood and Injury, But also, Canon Asexual Character, Canon Typical Weirdness, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-Typical Worms (The Magnus Archives), Eldritch Jon, Elias Bouchard Being Elias Bouchard, Elias Bouchard Being a Bastard, Everyone Has Issues, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Michael is a Little Shit, Monster Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Morally Ambiguous Character, Morbid Humor, Nikola Orsinov is the Toy Soldier, No beta we die like archival assistants, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Philosophical ramblings, Queerplatonic Relationships, Sasha James has Dyslexia, She likes to play matchmaker, Tags Are Fun, The Mechanisms Were The Archivist's College Band, This is Chaotic, Tim Stoker Has ADHD (The Magnus Archives), Web Avatar Martin Blackwood, all the mechs are a little eldritch, also the mechs are still active while Jon works at the institute, bc jon is totally not being projected onto by me no not at all, bc monster bois falling in love, bc soft eldritch horrors, bc trying to have eldritch beings fit into human moral standers makes no sense, chaotic jon, everyone is much softer and also less motivated to end the world, except elias, fearing for ones life, he has no rights, hes just trying to befriend and understand everyone, honestly the mood is gonna be all over the place, however, i still have so many tags to do wtf, im so happy about that still, im v soft for soft monsters okay?, its most of them, jon is the beholding's kid, jon making friends with the avatars, listen this is still set in mostly the same world, martin is also still connected to the lonely, martin is connected to the web, morbid in general, questionable medical treatment, sasha james has most of the brain cells, so things will get dark, soft monsters are soft, specifically for Jon and Martin, the beholding is a weirdly good parent, the mechanisms are all queerplatonic together because thats what they & we deserve, the mechanisms bother/mess with jon a lot cause that how they be, they joke about it, they still get hurt though, tim stoker is a good friend
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:42:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 12,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26023645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonlight_Hyperfixations/pseuds/Moonlight_Hyperfixations
Summary: (Inspired by Ketakoshka's Monster Jon series)Jon loves Knowing things, but he wants to Understand. Understand his friends, the world and most of all himself. Its a bit hard, being just as much a child of the Beholding as of his human parents.(Aka Jon is a monster boi who literally just wants to help his friends happy and also mess with Elias, oh and also maybe become romantically involved with his cute archival assistant who he Knows isn't as human as he thinks.)
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 155
Kudos: 522





	1. Prologue 1: Jon is an interesting kid and also he gets a new aunt

At first, Jon didn’t know he was unusual. After all, the other kids talked about their imaginary friends all the time. Really, an ever watching presence was tame compared to brightly colored, mishmash animals or just some person. Honestly, he would have been scared if it was a person. But the Seer wasn’t a person. It was just the Seer, and it cared for Jon. He knew, not only did the Seer tell him, but he felt it, he Knew it. He Knew a lot, but the Seer would Know it for him. Because he didn’t want to Know how everyone felt all the time or what scared them, so the Seer ate that knowledge for him.

Everyone else lost their friends, though. Then again, their friends couldn’t whisper through the radio or make pictures in TV static. Nor did their friends save them again and again. Or paint dreams of things he should not know to help him rest on anxious nights. The Seer did, always. For though he was often overwhelmed, Jon adored learning more than anything else. More than singing, more than stars and more than himself. Knowledge was practically his lifeblood before he could read, and he adored knowing things others did not. The mischief of someone just not knowing something while he Knew, was thrilling and mostly harmless.

By the time Jon Knew he was strange, he had figured it out himself. The Seer simply wished to delay the inevitable. He didn’t mind, the sentiment was nice. Knowing was nicer, though, and set him down a path that genuinely surprised the Seer.

“I want to Know more about the others.” Jon spoke quietly to the tape recorder in his lap. He started carrying it everywhere after finding it at the back of a thrift shop in middle school. “And… I want to meet them, too.” He admitted, huddling down further into his turtleneck.

For a moment the Seer was quiet, only a comforting and soft static spilling from the blank tape. Then it began to whisper in its language of secrets and song and Knowing. ‘Are you sure?’ It asked, comforting watching wrapping around the teen’s anxious limbs. ‘They did not have your experience, little researcher. They were brought into our world through tragic means.’

“Yes.” It was a whisper, so soft and incorporeal a human would have missed it. But it was laced with empathy and yearning, it made the Seer sigh. It’s boy was kind, though he did not show it. He cared, far too much and got hurt because of it when it came to mundane people. Would he be hurt more by those in their world? It did not want him hurt, but it could not shield him from the others forever.

‘Very well,’ It soothed, presence holding him tighter with metaphorical arms. ‘Let me share the story of Annabelle Cane.’

* * *

So while Jon listened and Knew, a part of the Seer turned to gaze past webs. It, through a once calm and cyclical song playing from an old radio, warned her. Warned her not to hurt its child, its ever curious little one. Told her to guide him, protect him from the others. For the Seer Knew she would grow fond of him, Knew she longed for a family that understood and loved her. It told her of how it raised the boy more than his own guardian, ever since he was born and somehow before that. So the lady of spiders had a book sent, and young Jonathan Sims went missing for nearly a year.

To the world, one day he was there and the next his once inattentive grandmother was stapling missing posters to every place she could and talking to the police every few days. It was odd to see her care so much about him, as everyone knew they were distant and odd. The saying rang oh so true for her, however. You don’t value what you have until you lose it, and she has lost her only remaining family overnight.

She did not know that he was safe, living deep within the spider’s web with a woman he would come to see as family. Annabelle’s plan was cruel, and he felt guilty despite everything, but she assured him it would work out for the best and the Seer agreed. He trusted her, not at first but even then he trusted the Seer. So he spent a year living with her and learning. Things his Seer could not teach, for though it Knew it did not Understand. How to comfort and negotiate, how to introspect and care for his own emotional health and most importantly how their world worked. How the beings beyond interacted with the physical plane, what the Seer truly is. What he is, and was and could become. How to control powers that began to emerge, to temper his voice and ground his not quite human mind. Then she sent him home, with a spider on his shoulder and a promise that Aunt Anna would always be there for him.

“Don’t worry, little watcher,” She muttered into his hair, hugging him tightly as Mister Spider waited patiently by the door. “I’ll always be there if you need me, just pull some strings.”

Jon snorted weakly at her pun, squeezing tightly before letting go. “I know, aunt Anna. I’ll still miss you… Though knowing you I’ll be getting quite a few visits.”

“Why of course, after all that brain of yours will get you into college early. I’d bet on it if I were a betting woman.” she smiled down at him, pushing a worn book into his hands. “Remember if you ever want to come back, just read the book.”

“You're always a welcome and honored guest.” Mister Spider piped up, smiling all sharp teeth and fangs.

With a final hug, Jon walked through the door and was found. Exactly a year from his disappearance, outside an old house at the edge of town dressed in expensive clothes and an incredibly complex and soft hand knitted sweater, carrying a worn children’s book called ‘A Guest For Mister Spider’.

* * *

After that, his grandmother became much more attentive. It helped that he seemed to have miraculously learned good social skills, at least with her. So despite his talking tape recorder and ever veracious lust for knowledge still there, she welcomed him with open arms and so much love. Annabelle’s plan had worked, just as she said. So well that when Jon got uncomfortable with the authorities questions, she sent them out the door and told them to drop the case. Her grandson was back, after all. They were no longer needed.

So things went on for him. Just as Annabelle predicted, he graduated a year early. She was there, at his graduation, though no one else noticed. She waited at his new apartment, one scattered with spider webs, while his grandmother helped him pack. Then she helped him unpack. She had found one with an extra room, told him just in case he found someone he trusted enough to live with, the spiders would leave them alone.

That is how this story started, a boy already beloved by the Eye and Web, on a mission to meet and understand all the others in his strange world. A man who cares far too much but can only show little, who whispers with a static voice and sees through many eyes.


	2. First Steps

Logically, he shouldn’t be nervous. He talked to a supernatural being beyond human comprehension on a regular basis, one that was currently shielding him from the massive influx of emotions and knowledge spilling from the crowd around him. Yet, despite the Eye’s intervention, things seeped through the cracks. Excitement, confusion, anxiety and hope were strongest, undercurrents of fear or confidence depending on the person. ‘You will be fine, I am here for you.’ the Seer whispered through his headphones, barely overpowering the music he was oh so tempted to sing along too. Instead he nodded, settling on clutching his books tightly to his chest. The silken feeling of his light sweater, one woven by aunt Anna, also helped to settle his racing heart.

Really, his first few days passed fine. The material was easy to consume, in both ways, and he was already ahead on his classwork. The only problem was that he felt lonely. It's not as if he had any close friends from high school to keep in touch with, and though he called his grandmother and aunt Anna often, he still felt lonely. Perhaps that's why he let himself sing in one of the courtyards, maybe he hoped someone would hear him. Or maybe he had been reading too many novels.

Nevertheless, he did. It was late evening, most students either already gone or on their way out. The night classes didn’t start for a few hours, so he honestly wasn’t expecting anyone to hear him. The courtyard was out of the way, tucked behind one of the buildings that housed a gallery art students could schedule space to display their work. He didn’t sing loud.

“Eyes over city tall

Do you hear me?

I call out in static tones.”

It was a song for the Seer. He had written at least one for everyone he cared for, not that many people fit that category yet. His voice had a static undertone, preserved by those with shielded minds as a gravely, rough tinge. He let his body relax into an unheard melody as he sang.

“Sight washes out the hum,

of broken mutters.

To them a fear ever known,

Yet you are the safest place I know.”

Someone clapped, slow and steady. He jolted, spinning around to face his unseen audience. As soon as he saw her he Knew she was not human. He Knew her skin had not always been hers, that she had stolen it. Most importantly, he Knew she was genuine in her applause. That did not stop him from curling back into his sweater, nor flushing and avoiding her gaze.

“That was absolutely lovely, dear!” She, Nikola, chirped. “Why, I haven’t heard such a wonderful voice in ages!”

“Thank you, Nikola Orsinov.” His voice was quiet, but the warmth seeped through. For he had Known of her for a long time, yet did not think they would meet. “I’m sure you’ve heard prettier in your time, though.”

With a grin, Nikola approached him. The skin may not be hers, but the smile truly was. “Oh, I’ve heard of you! Little eye, some of them are calling you. Surely you should be called Little singer, I think!”

And so the Stranger’s finest spoke to the Watcher’s son with a friendly ferver, insisting he come along the next time her ‘human friends’ met up to make music. She told him of them, though she also encouraged him Knowing them just to have a bit of mischief.

By the time they parted ways, Jon decided he liked Nikola.


	3. In which people have perceptions about Jon, pt 1

“Are you sure about this?” Jon whispered, messing with the sleeves of his slightly iridescent sweater. He always wore sweaters, no matter how hot it was, yet Nikola was sure she had never seen him sweat. Not like she could talk, for that matter. “I don’t want to intrude, and most people find me off putting so-”

Nikola cut him off swiftly by snapping her elaborate fan in his face. “They don’t find me off putting, well not much. Really, Jon, they’ll adore you! It’s not as if yours truly hasn’t been gushing about you for months.”

“You’ve been what?!” He squeaked, tightly grabbing the tape recorder hung around his neck. Nikola had brought him a silver chain one day, after he had nearly dropped it in her presence. She had helped him pick out paints that would stay on the plastic, too. Now carefully crafted eyes covered it in colorful lines. “What if I’m not what they’re expecting?”

This time a gentle static reassured him. ‘They are eager to meet you, little researcher.’ The Eye whispers, ‘and if you feel overwhelmed you can go home. I will always be here with you.’

“Thank you…” 

  
  
  


They met at the rented home several of Nikola’s friends lived in. Tim, Brian and Nastya specifically. It was a student accommodation on the edge of campus, plain in an old and untended way. Yet the car parked out front was cared for and though not expensive, Jon Knew it was cherished. A crude tire swing was latched a bit too high from the ground, secured in the tall old tree out front. The remnants of parties and carelessness still marked the porch. 

As the two stood there, Nikola giving Jon time to take everything in, a car pulled up with the last of Nikola’s friends. Well, the ones she made music with. Jon didn’t notice as she approached, the Stranger’s finest signaling not to startle him. 

Basira Hassain was not a subtle woman, though not the most outwardly eccentric. Her cloths were practical with an earthy palette, occasional bits of color all drowned out by her vibrant red headscarf. Copper skin speckled with painted on, white freckles framed dark eyes that watched like specters. Yet as she stopped next to Nikola, the friend who was never quite right, this young man was more unusual. 

“You sure me just standing here when he looks back won’t spook him?” She whispered, leaning down to the mannequin’s ear.

“Oh, he’ll Know to expect you dearie. Its loud noises and sudden movements that start his heart up.” Nikola grinned, eyes flicking to Basira’s. “Not just the way you know things, my observant human compatriot. He Knows, it can be quite adorable to watch!”

Basira just raised a brow, not really understanding but then again, this was Nikola. She never understood her, not really. None of them could. That’s why they were so happy for her when they first heard about Jon, he was someone like her, someone who could fully understand. Not just in a hypothetical, needing-to-think-about-it way that they could. Just understand.

With a slight crackle of static, Jon tilted his head in their direction. The eyes that locked with hers were brown, she was sure of that, yet they seemed to shimmer green and gold. He smiled and it seemed strange, not in Nikola’s way, but if she didn’t know the mannequin it would have definitely put Basira off. 

“Hello, Basira.” He started softly, hugging the painted tape recorder to him. “I am Jonathan Sims, it's nice to meet you. And please, call me Jon.”

“Nice to meet you, too, Jon.” She grinned. Even with just his spoken words, she could tell Nikola was right, he had a beautiful voice. “Come on, everyone else is dying to meet you. Especially Tim, he's actually an extrovert.”


	4. In which people have perceptions about Jon, pt 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aka all the mechs can be a little eldritch, as a treat.

Tim, Timothy Ward, the Eye provided, opened the door the second Nikola knocked. Jon Knew he had been watching from the nearby window. His hair was pulled back loosely, giving the man a frantic yet oddly relaxed appearance. 

“Welcome! You must be Jon, Kola’s told us so much about you!” He belted, rolling back and forth on his feet, “I’m-”

“Tim, I know.” Jon cut him off softly, slightly hiding behind his Strange friend. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Grin widening, Tim ushered them into the house and towards the living room. This ‘Jon’ would be fun, he could just sense it. Buried under that nervousness and polite quiet was something fierce and verbose! He could always tell, and the static that blurred the colors of Jon’s voice was surely a sign of something interesting!

“Our guests have arrived!” Tim sang, causing both his housemates to look up from their instruments. As usual, the living room was taken up by a couch, some nice chairs and Brian’s drum set. “And as promised, Kola brought her friend!”

Brian was first to introduce himself, swiftly getting up and walking over to do so properly. He towered over Jon, though that didn’t seem to bother either of them. “I’m Brian. It's nice to meet you, Jon.”

“You as well.”

He noticed Jon’s nervous voice first, and he was struck by the fact that it would not always be that way. Silver webs, much like the ones that sent him dreams and thoughts of things to come, wove the small man’s sweater. Silver webs that whispered of love and a future they would not allow to cease. Brian smiled, it was nice for webs to spell kindness once in a while. 

“Call me Nastya,” the woman in question called, still focused on her violin, “And let me know if Tim gets too personal with you. He tends to miss cues of discomfort.”

“Hey! He can just tell me!” Tim griped, turning to Jon, “Really though you can tell me. I won’t get offended or anything.”

“Understood.” Jons response was nearly robotic as he blinked, as if his brain was catching up. “Do the same for me. I’ve been told my company is unsettling.” 

“Good.” Nastya grinned, actually looking up. Her eyes found Jon’s tape recorder, then the watch half hidden by his sleeves, before she met his eyes. “Also the people who told you that were probably assholes. You seem very nice.”

She saw him freeze at her words, conversation continuing around them, and held his gaze with a smile. He was like a clock, she figured, ticking ever on yet unaware that simply going was admirable. The result of complex and intricate parts that, though unseen, were more interesting than most people’s entire lives. Nastya could see through his skin, to the tiny cameras that made up his being. Not literally, perhaps, but one never knew. After all, what was she but gears and metal blood? Human in all ways but many, flesh until she wasn’t. 

And Jon was like her, if not more so. She’d look out for him, she decided. 

So fates began to converge under the attentive gaze of the Seer. 


	5. A time skip, and also Jon disapproves of the current Archivist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon has ended up sharing a lot of my views on humanity and lack therefore of, but also not somehow. Also Gertrude can go wither in an infinite void of questions and doubts. And Michael is a sweetheart.

By the time Jon entered the Archive, he had Seen it many times. It was not his yet, but it would be. The Seer often told him that, even long before he could understand why. He would dream of its messy shelves and old desk, even in childhood. So as he stepped in, to deliver some files from research, everything felt very right. Then he saw the current Archivist, and everything felt very, very wrong. 

She did not see him, too busy with the papers covering that familiar desk. She did not Know he was there, because she had long since rejected the Eye. It had stopped trying to keep her when he was born. She thought she had outwitted it. A prideful one, Jon noted, because he Know she believed many things that were untrue. Namely, that she had outwitted anything beyond simple humans in her lifetime. He didn’t like her. She scoffed at the kindness of her blonde assistant, who had shown Jon where to go even though he Knew already. Yet she adored the pessimistic, cold sorrow of the bookburner who had been here the morning prior. 

So Jon waited silently, his face a cold, indifferent mask that matched her own almost perfectly, and tried to channel that misplaced pride and smugness she wore. When she finally looked up, nearly half an hour later, Gertrude started so badly she nearly fell from her chair. Jon did not move, simply raising his brow in the same, condescending way her Knew she often did.

“Can I help you?” She asked, face impassive and tone flat, expression unintentionally matching his own. 

“I’m here to deliver these to the current Archivist.” He stated bluntly, matching her tone a little too well as he set the files on her desk. She eyed him warily, like he would attack her any moment. “Don’t worry, despite how unsatisfying your work is, it does not resent you.”

“It? And what might that refer to, young man?” He hated her tone, assuming despite layers of caution. Thinking she knew more than him, understood more. The tape recorder on her desk clicked on. She settled slightly, opening one of her drawers a bit too casually. He Knew it held a gun. He did not fear her.

“The Watcher.” He supplied, reviling in just how quickly she tensed. “If it resented you, I would have Seen you before now. It doesn’t, so I haven’t.”

“What connects you to it?” Her question was sharp, filled with stale, old static far too brittle to even scratch him. He smiled, she did not.

“More than you think,” He turned to leave, pausing as he opened the door, just enough so the kind assistant would hear.  _ Michael _ , the Seer supplied. “Things are changing, growing if you will. You may have Known things before, but that's long outdated and I'm sorry to say that it has no interest or need for you anymore. Next time I’ll leave anything I’m sent to deliver with Michael or Gerry. Goodbye, Gertrude, it wasn’t a pleasure.”

Jon didn’t quite realize he had stormed out of the archives until a voice interrupted the calming static from his own tape recorder. He was standing in the hall, only a bit away from the stairs that lead to the rest of the institute. Michael stood in front of him, hands hovering about near his shoulders.

“-lright? Did something happen? I know Ms. Robinson can be prickly, I should have warned you. Sorry. Are you okay, though?” the slightly older man fretted, eyes nearly flooded with concern. He was kind. That was good, a very good and admirable trait. Gertrude didn’t deserve him.

“I’m alright, Michael. Thank you for the concern but I’ll just be on my way back to research.” He tried his best to smile, though he Knew it didn’t turn out quite right. He hadn’t gotten the hang of smiling while hiding the new eyes yet, it seemed.

“Of course,” Michael jittered, smiling back reassuringly, “Have a good day, oh, sorry I forgot to ask your name?”

“Jon, and thank you.” 

  
  


Looking back, Jon was very glad his not-smile hadn’t upset poor Michael. He tried it in the mirror while getting ready to meet up with the band for a brainstorming session, it looked like a grimace. 


	6. The mechs are chaotic and they adopted Gerry

It was less than a month later that Gerry showed up at one of their shows. Jon Knew he was there, and he Knew that Gertrude had sent him. He didn’t break character, though. Nickola was in the middle of The Toy Soldior’s Song, so he hid his surprise by taking a drink of water. They had decided to use cleaned out alcohol bottles instead of water bottles, partially as a joke. 

The show went well, any hiccups glossed over or ramped up for comedy and banter. As soon as the last theatrics were done, Jon was quick to inform the band of their guest.

“Okay, creepy eldritchness babies here,” Marius quipped quietly, “What exactly does that mean? Should we be worried or…?”

He had joined them the most recently, introduced by Ivy and Raphiella shortly after their own joining. Unlike the rest of the crew, he had barely brushed the supernatural. Ivy knew little as well, though her connection to the eye tended to help with that. Raphiella just… went along and observed, asking questions after the fact. 

“He was sent here by the current Archivist, who rejected the Seer’s gifts. I may have… rashly confronted her?” He paused, taking in the mixed expressions of his friends, “To be fair, she’s incredibly annoying and self righteous. She thought, probably still thinks, that she outwitted the Watcher and several other Entities. And she dislikes people being happy, i think.”

“What a sad woman,” Nickola pointed out, though she didn’t seem to care. 

“Need us to scare him off or something?” Gunpowder piped up, hand rested on a hidden knife at his hip. “Or are you going to do that thing where you bullshit your way into a friendship?”

Jon sputtered, his common embarrassment looking odd on D’ville’s visage. “I just talk politely to people, why does everyone talk about it like some talent?”

The group just laughed, Ivy volunteering to greet their guest. The rest started packing up, keeping half an eye on her.

Gerry was still lurking near the door when Ivy approached him, a passive smile on her face. He eyed her with guarded suspicion. 

“Hello, did you enjoy our show?” Her question seemed to confuse him for a moment, before he nodded. “Good. Jon will be happy to hear that.”

“Okay?” his voice was stiff and low, eyes sweeping the crew. He caught Marius giving him a suspicious look, and shot one back. “What do you want, exactly?”

“You’re here to spy on Jon, no?” Ivy said, casually looking at her nails. Gerry went stiff as a board, eyes sharpening like she would attack him any second. “I’m the welcoming party, so to speak. Jon doesn’t like your boss, but he doesn’t seem to mind you. Just a warning, hurt him and you’ll regret it.” Her voice dipped, eyes locking with his as most of the crew glanced over, a few grinning.

Seeing the slight panic rising unbidden on Gerry’s face, Jon pulled away from the group and hurried over. “Gerard Keay, correct?”

Both started, though Gerry hid it better. “Yes… and you are?”

“Jon, but you already know that. Do you want to go drink with us? We normally go out after shows.”

“.... Sure.”

  
  
  


When Gerry walked into the archives the next day, there were several more contacts in his phone, a smile on his face and he had  _ nothing _ to report to Gertrude.


	7. Its Distortion time!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween, everyone! All of your comments have been so sweet, it makes my heart play hopscotch! I hope you enjoy this chapter. Fun fact, I based some of the narration on my own experiences with sensory overload. That being said;  
> Trigger warning for some unreality and derealization. There will be a * before and after this section. Also, The Distortion is present for the following text, so slight warning for it's fair.

Jon wasn’t sure when the Seer had stopped feeding him information about the world around him, but he was sure that it _ wasn’t  _ the Seer doing it anymore.  _ He _ was pulling the Knowledge from thin air as he walked through the research department. He was  _ Knowing _ .

Static buzzed around him as his parent whispered praise and pride in long dead languages, which he Knew and  _ Understood _ . It was a shattering thing, the Eye’s praise. It dug into every inch of him and blinked, slow and soft. It saw every flaw, every near human trace, and the eyes crinkled in a nonexistent smile. If Jon had not felt it every large accomplishment of his life, the lovely stabbing would have sent his body tumbling. 

‘Soon,’ It said, in its odd way, ‘you will be ready soon.’

He briefly wondered what that meant, but pushed away the Knowing. Surprises were fun, at least Micheal and Nicola had mentioned. He wanted to try that, being surprised by something good. His mind wandered to Micheal. He had left with her a few weeks ago. Where was he?

*

And suddenly Jon did not Know, because his mind was blinded by hundreds of curling colors and veins and the world was _sinking_ all around him as he rose to _meet it_ halfway to the next, his fingers were _uncurling_ from his _bones_ in such a slowly fast way that it made them bleed nothing but _tears_ and there was _nowhere_ but his mind and _nothing moved ever but everything was so fast and soft and stabbing and he couldn’t breathe because his lungs were made of paper baskets and everything was made of tiny spiraling smiles and it hurt it hurt it hurt hurt hurt hurt_ ** _hurt hurt hurt_** **_hurt hurt hurt Hurt Hurt Hurt HURT HURT HURT-_**

*

And then Jon knew nothing.

  
  
  
  
  
  


When he woke, he Knew again. He Knew Micheal was gone, taken, twisted. But he was still Michael, as he was not Micheal. Michael being Micheal hurt Micheal, like Seeing Michael hurt Jon. Like Knowing Micheal hurt Jon.

He also Knew that he was alone in a hospital room. That didn’t matter, what mattered was-

“Micheal?” his voice was hoarse, eyes peeling open weakly. All of them. “Micheal? You can hear me, right?”

A sorrowful chuckle filled his head, bouncing through his bones as Micheal appeared, a bright yellow door pushing open across from the bed. It did not hurt to look at him for Jon, he was not trying to See. Human Micheal was small and unassuming, with pale blonde curls and a soft face. This Micheal was all sharp edges, swirling iridescence and impossible angles. 

It was still his friend though.

“What would you like to be called?” His question sent it laughing, though a brighter one. Its voice hurt a bit, like an old headache. “And your pronouns, for when I need to refer to you.”

“You are funny, Archivist.” what once was Micheal grinned, the edges curling back and around its eyes. “You may call me Micheal, and I suspect you already see me as an it.”


	8. Another time skip, and Elias is the worst

Two years later, Jon sat in the Archives office for the first time.  _ His Archive _ . It was now, truly. More than just promises and dreams and feelings. His Archives,  _ his _ Archives.  _ He is the Archivist, and these are his Archives _ .

Jon did not  _ want _ assistants, he knew the fates they tended to garner. He did not want them, but every Archivist  _ needed _ them. It was a part of the title,  _ a part of the Archives themselves _ . So, despite not wanting them, Jon set to deciding who would become Archival Assistants. 

His first pick was Tim Stoker, a fellow researcher who had taken to eating lunch with him and his friends. He was kind, if a little brash, and very intelligent. He felt of the Stranger, slightly, and stronger of the Inevitable. Jon had to stop himself from Knowing why often, and gaining his story might have been a contribution to offering him the job. He also hoped it would lead to a way to ease his daggered look whenever Nicola visited. He had asked her if she knew him, the answer was a no, but she did know his brother. She had refused to elaborate beyond the other Stoker joining her circus. 

Stoker accepted the invitation to meet up with Jon and the others to talk about the position, less than an hour after it was sent. 

Next was Sasha James, he didn’t know her personally, but the Seer liked her and she was Gertrude’s pick as next head Archivist. Everyone he spoke two about her said the same thing, she was sweet and very, very smart. A few even gave examples in which she had helped them solve personal problems. He hoped she wouldn’t be bitter about him getting the job, after he explained the reasons. She seemed like an interesting person to be friends with.

She accepted his invitation as well, warning him that his ominous warning was going to need explaining. 

Finally, Martin Blackwood. Aunt Anna had mentioned him, saying he didn’t know much but needed the money. And that he made good tea. Honestly, Jon knew very little of him, and wouldn’t have considered him at all. 

Elias let Jon know the day of the meeting that Martin had already signed the contract to work at the Archives.

This caused a sour mood for him that morning, as he paced his office. He could hear Tim and Martin talking outside the open door as they approached.

“-weird that the double boss hired you right away while Jon wanted to meet with us first. Did he give you the same, crazy warning?” Tim asked, chipper voice undertone with suspicion.

“What warning? The one about health hazards? I did think it was odd, but we do have to follow up somehow.” Martin replied.

“No the-”

“He didn’t warn you!” Jon burst out of his office, fury already buzzing in his blood. “I told him I wouldn’t-” Jon stopped, the shocked looks on the other men’s faces catching him off guard… oh. His eyes, all the eyes on his face were open.

“What the fuck,” A feminine voice muttered from the door, Sasha frozen there. 


	9. In which everyone freaks out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning:  
> I wrote this in a way that may channel or elevate anxiety. Please take care of yourselves.

“Hey there, bossman! Practicing you Halloween mak-” Tim started as Jon looked at him, face contorting in confusion and fear, “Definitely not makeup, not makeup! What the fuck, Jon?!”

Martin was completely still, a shocked look on his face as papers fell from his grip. Jon could see a small spider crawling through his hair, as if to comfort him, though the man in question didn’t notice it. Oh gods, he had sent his assistant into shock. 

And Sasha… Jon looked up, past Tim who flinched again. She looked confused, yes, but mostly curious. Her bright eyes studied his many, many darker ones with a familiar intensity. She probably wouldn’t freak out too much, then. That was good. 

“Jon please tell me this is fake, did your friends convince you to pull a prank on us? I bet they did, it was Nicola wasn’t it?!” Tim was rambling, one hand reaching out and gently poking one of the eyes while Jon was distracted. “Oh my god, what the actual fuck?”

“That hurt, Tim.” Jon commented harshly, stepping backwards and closing his eyes, aside from the human ones. The reaction hurt too, more really. He won't tell Tim that, not now, not yet. “Remember our talk about consent when touching me? Still a thing, you haven’t cleared friend qualifications yet.” 

“You have friend qualifications?” Martin piped up, though he still looked dazed.

“Lets have you all sit down for this, okay? I promise to explain everything.” Jon urged, shepherding them to the break room. His heart tightened so much it hurt to breathe.

“You better,” Sasha muttered, side-eying him the whole time. Though, she was rather occupied trying to get Tim to calm down. A shattered glass stabbing caught his throat, all his eyes stung.

“I…” Jon started, but they were still recovering. They needed time, without him there probably. “I’ll go buy us all hot chocolates, wait here.”

He needed time, too.

  
  
  


As soon as his footsteps disappeared, the room relaxed. 

Jon Knew, and he Knew they were talking about him in frantic whispers. 

The Seer sang reassuringly. 

He Knew Tim had started to cry, as Jon walked out of the building.

‘They will understand, eventually.’ It sang.

He Knew Sasha was running them through breathing exercises, when Jon entered a nearby café. 

‘I am here for you.’

He Knew Martin told them he was less surprised then he felt he should be, as four hot cocoas were handed to Jon in a carrying tray.

‘You have friends who love you.’

He Knew Tim told them he was afraid to have lost someone else to the supernatural, as Jon walked back.

‘Even if they fear you, I will always love you.’

He Knew Sasha convinced them to hear him out, as Jon reentered the building.

‘It will be okay, little researcher.’

He Knew she was the most afraid of what he would say, because she had an inkling of the truth.

‘You will be okay.’ The Seer cooed, and Jon felt like he could breathe again. 

  
  
  
  
  


“I’m back.” He announced just loudly enough, before he opened the break room door. “I don’t know what you all like on your cocoa, so I just got them plain.”

A quiet round of 'thank you's followed as he put them down, Jon made sure to be the last to pick and took a drink first, even though it was still a bit too hot.

“So,” Sasha started.

“Yes, answers. Where should I start?” Jon picked up, taking another drink of his too hot cocoa. “There's a lot, and I'd rather not overwhelm you.”

“The eyes?” Tim spoke quickly.

“Very well, we start with me then.” Jon hesitated. “I am, well. Lets just say I’m not completely human. I never have been, though the eyes started coming in a few years ago…”


	10. In which everyone is surprised about multiple things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm hyperfixating on this so much rn. I'm glad people are enjoying it, cause this is 90% self indulgent stress relief for me.

“-so my theory is they are a natural development for me. I don’t exactly have any reference to compare to, as I’m the second of my kind and my predecessor isn’t exactly eye aligned.” Jon finished, looking up to see mixed, unreadable expressions on all three people before him. “Right, I haven’t explained what that means. Sorry, that part is a lot and there are a few things I’d like to say first.”

Jon’s nerves felt like fire, he vaguely wondered if that's what being a child of the desolation felt like. His tape recorder clicked on, relieving static spilled into the room. The others flinched. Jon felt cold, and glass seemed to press around his heart. Nastya had once told him he felt like a clock filled with cameras, he could almost feel his gears stuttering in their spins. 

“Okay.” Martin’s gentle voice, which sounded concerned and kind and not scared, though Jon couldn’t be sure, brought him back to the room. Martin had wrapped Tim in a comforting hug with one arm, and had the other on Sasha’s shoulder. Sasha was starting, intense and familiar, while she drank her cocoa. Tim was staring, too, though he still looked a little perturbed. 

“Okay,” Jon repeated, clutching his tape recorder. “Okay. So, I have a hard time understanding emotions, both my own and others. This is not because of what I am, not fully. Aunt Anna brought me to several mental health professionals who know about the supernatural, they all agreed that my difficulties are mostly rooted in my human physiology and phycology. That's part of the reason I wanted to speak with you all before you accepted this assistant position, though a lesser reason. I’m difficult to work with. I’m stubborn and I hyperfixate and get snappy. When I don't know how to react I react coldly, I’ve been told. The other reason is more important, of course. I just… I want you to understand me, a bit, if we do work together. Seeing as Elias already tricked one of you into it.” 

“What does ‘rooted in your human brain whatnot’ mean, exactly?” Tim questioned cautiously, suspicion marring his face. Jon flinched this time.

“I, um…” Jon mumbled, thinking about what to say. He wanted Tim to be his friend, eventually. If Tim was a jerk about this, well… “I’m autistic, Tim. Among other things.”

“Oh,” Tim froze a bit, suddenly looking very guilty. “Sorry, I didn't… I mean, that's cool! I thought it would be…”

“Something spooky?” Sasha supplied.

“Yeah, sorry.”

Jon visibly relaxed.

“I have ADHD.” Tim blurted, bringing his hands up to reveal a fidget cube. “Since we’re sharing. People get annoyed in research because I'm always moving and I have to listen to music to focus properly.”

“I have some sensory issues,” Martin added, “Though I’ve never been diagnosed with anything.”

“I’m also on the spectrum, and I have dyslexia.” Sasha said, taking a long sip of cocoa, “Which café did you get these from?”

“Just down the street.” Jon answered, voice a little shaky. “You didn’t have to tell me, I'm glad you did but…”

“You have to spill all your secrets but we get to keep ours?” Tim snorted, “It's not like we’re telling you our deepest desires, Bossman. Plus, I was gonna tell you anyway. I still plan on taking this job.” 

“Oh, same.” Sasha grinned, making a toast with Tim. “So what's this about not being able to quit?”

“What?!” Martin squeaked, looking the most shocked he had all day. “Why?”

“The contract binds you to the Eye, my parent, through Elias.” Jon sighs, rubbing a few of his eyes, still closed, tiredly. “You will be completely unable to quit once you sign. I’m really sorry, Martin.”

“Hey, it's not your fault.” Was his reply, a strained smile accompanied it. “Elias is the one that had me sign the contract, not you.”

“Yes, but i told him to let me pick my own assistants and not to let anyone sign anything without me! I wasn’t even going to pick you! This job is dangerous!”

“Dangerous how?” Sasha interrupted.

“Any genuine statements will be about things and people like me, connected to the dread powers! If you follow up on a statement and run into something, I won’t be able to protect-”

“I know how to fight.” Tim and Sasha spoke up, both completely serious. 

“Uh, I don’t?” Martin added. “But I know how to shoot a gun? If that helps?”

“What?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: Makes everyone Nerodiverse or coded
> 
> Me: Has all of the diversities that are explicitly stated thus far. (Except for the undiagnosed sensory stuff, I have Sensory Processing Disorder)


	11. The conversation continues

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yall are so nice, it's genuinely so wonderful. All your comments have made me smile! 
> 
> Also, its important to me that yall know my notes for this chapter were just: 'Assistant crew tries to be good friends to anxious eye monster man, everyone is nervous and Elias/Jonah is a snooping bitch'.

They had lapsed into a chaotic discussion about Martin being the least likely person expected to know how to use a gun. It was true, at least to Jon. Martin was all soft edges, fluffy pastel sweaters and quiet songs. Yet, Jon could picture his kind face morphed into something cold and deadly. He didn’t know how he felt about that, but it was positive… He’d unpack that later. 

“So, we can all fight spooks. Do you have our contracts, bossman?”

Jon nearly jumped, inhuman eyes flickering open briefly.

“Yeah, still not used to that.” Tim commented, but continued to look expectantly. “Paperwork, Jon.”

“Are you sure?” He pressed, locking eyes with Tim, then Sasha. “I haven’t told you everything, and it will be dangerous. Even some of the friendly beings might try to hurt you. They don’t conform to human standards on anything, let alone what is and isn’t harmful.”

“Does that include you?” Sasha asked, not looking particularly worried.

“Yes. I may have been raised in human society, but I am not fully human and never was. There are simply some things I do not Understand. For example, it is very normal to me to be constantly watched by my parent, and less so my Aunt. I do not understand why being watched unsettles people. As such, I do not understand privacy, though I have been learning that one for years. I will try my best to respect your boundaries, but I will make mistakes.” Jon recited, as if this was a conversation he had before. He had, multiple times. 

“So you’re nosy? Okay, we can just tell you if you're not respecting our privacy.” Tim responded first, looking much more relaxed. 

“Nosy is a gentler word than I would use… I also,” Jon paused, taking a deep breath. “I Know things.”

“Yeah, we know that. You're very smart.”

“No I-” Jon let out a frustrated whine. The words worked so well in his head, because he did Know. They didn’t Know! His frustration grew as he Knew Elias had been watching them with keen interest. “Like Elias Sees, I Know things. Things I haven’t learned, things I often don’t Understand. It's hard to control, especially with supernatural things. If I let myself, I could Know every second of your life better than you do. I won’t.”

There was a tense silence. The others shifted, clearly uncomfortable. The static started to sing softly as Jon hugged his tape recorder close. He felt like he had tried to See Micheal, everything felt wrong and painful. Them being uncomfortable around him felt wrong. And painful. 

“Well, that's ominous… What do you mean by Elias ‘seeing’.” Martin broke the silence, a nervous smile on his face. “It's because he works for this Eye being, right?”

“Yes, he-” 

“Why are you upset, Archivist?” Micheal was suddenly behind him, hugging Jon gently so it’s too sharp edges wouldn’t cut him. “I heard the bastard's name, is he being horrid again? Should I tell the others?”

“What the fuck?!”

“Oh, hello, Micheal.” 


	12. In which I expanded on the fact that Jon is a spooky synesthete

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: thinks in metaphors and probably has synesthesia
> 
> Me: projects that onto Jon and makes it spooky

“This has been a lot, why don’t we pick up tomorrow?” He had said.

“Don’t overwork the Archivist, he does it enough himself.” Micheal had added, unprompted.

But now that Jon was alone in the Archives, he didn’t want to rest or think. He wanted to be lost, he wanted to See.

With shaking hands and a glass-bruised heart, the Archivist picked up a statement and a standard issue recorder. 

“Statement of Nathan Watts, regarding an encounter on Old Fishmarket Close, Edinburgh...” And for the duration of the statement, Jon did not exist.

* * *

  
  
  


Elias was, in most people's opinion, the worst. Jon both knew and Knew this. He also Knew Elias had been standing in his office for about ten minutes. 

“You should have knocked,” Jon snipped, rearranging his papers.

“Should I have? You seemed rather… focused. I would hate to have interrupted your recording.” His voice was a colorless oil slick, spilling from his lips with too much ease. “Wouldn’t want to disorient you, Archivist.”

“Is that so.” Jon forced the colors into his voice. Perhaps it was petty, since Elias was too human to see them anyway, but his voice was so much prettier and he wanted to See that. “What do you want, _ Elias _ ?”

“I simply wished to check in, see how you're settling. How do you like your new assistants?” the man turned to inspect the outer room, pretending to notice its emptiness. “Speaking of which, where are they?”

“ _ Only _ one of them is an Archival Assistant thus far, Elias.  _ Against my wishes, _ might I add.” Jon spat, eyes sharpening into a glare, though he didn’t give Elias the satisfaction of seeing all of them. “I sent them home, we had a talk about the  _ risks _ of working here. They needed time to think.”

“How very… considerate of you, Jonathan.” His tone was not pleased. Good. Jon would hate to bring him any joy.

“Good.” He stated, “I’ll be off then. I believe work ended an hour ago.”

  
  


* * *

Jon sat with a book open in his lap, blank pages awaiting ink. He knew the prior pages by heart, the intricate descriptions of every important person in his life. Now, he had to add another, despite not Knowing or knowing the man he would write about. But he would not let any Assistant die, so Martin Blackwood would become important to him. Jon picked up a soft, blue inked pen and wrote.

_ Martin is of soft songs and silver mist. He is silk and yarn, woven in blankets and webs transparent. He is memories of the sea. Martin has words unsaid swimming in his veins, stories untold and songs unsung. He is a mystery. _

Jon lets his pen fall still before he can Know anything he didn’t already. He has time, no need to dig. Knowing without permission made people uncomfortable, anyway.


	13. Working the Archives

Life was odd, working in the Archives.

It had taken a while for them to get used to Micheal. It helped that Michial hated Elias, and sometimes forced Jon to get some much needed air, but it was still unsettling. After getting a crash course on the fear entities, which ended up being a two hour long lecture, Tim and Sasha decided to accept the job offer. 

“It's like Nicola, right?” Tim asked, a week after their first meeting. Jon hadn’t let anyone sign anything yet, aside from a clearly timed, temporary contract he wrote himself. They had a year to decide. “Nicola gives off a similar feeling to Micheal.”

“The Stranger and the Distortion deal with similar fears sometimes, yes.” Was his nonchalant response. “And they are both tied closely to them, though it would be more apt to say Michael is the Spiral, in a way. Don’t think too hard about it, it hurts to.”

* * *

  
  
  


The statements, or rather, Jon recording them, took longer to get used to. He would spend hours recording statement after statement, then emerge with an almost eerie light in his eyes. He never let them record statements.

“You spend so long, we just want to help. It's worrying us.” Sasha pointed out, one day in the break room nearly a month in. “Why won’t you let us help you?”

“Recording Statements can have… adverse effects on humans. It's good for me, like exercise in a way, but it could hurt you.” Jon explained, calmly drinking his tea. “I used to have to sneak Statements through Micheal, and they always came out a bit off.”

“You do look a little healthier, I guess?” Tim added, though he sounded skeptical. 

“Just let us know if you need anything, that's what we’re here for.” Martin chimed in. 

“I will be sending you on follow ups soon…” Jon trailed off, eyes going distant and glowy. “A few friends have agreed to accompany each of you on the first few, just in case.”

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Two days later, three unfamiliar people were waiting in the Archives when the Assistants arrived. Jon was talking animatedly to them, a set of large, translucent-feathered wings barley fluttering on his back. 

“Oh,” was Martin’s response, because his boss looked like a spooky angel and how was he supposed to deal with that??? Jon was already pretty, he did not need wings. This was unfair and Martin was sure someone was targeting him, somehow. So he busied himself with making everyone’s morning tea, plus some for the guests. It's not his fault the break room door was open the whole time, they usually kept it open. And Jon was unfairly pretty. 

“You never told me you had wings! That's cool as hell!” Was Tim’s, because it was and could Jon fly? Could Jon fly with other people?! Could he get wings??!! Questions buzzed through his mind as Tim bounced to his desk, free hand stemming wildly. “You gotta stop hiding cool stuff from us, bossman!”

Sasha stared for much longer, before smiling and moving to her desk. Then she addressed the strangers. “Good morning, I’m Sasha James. I assume you’ll be the ones playing bodyguard for us?”

“I call dibs on that one!” A woman who also had wings, though they were much smaller and looked to be made from metal, grinned. “I’m your assigned spook, no arguments. I’ve decided.” Then, she leaned over to whisper to Jon. “Why didn’t you say one was already calm about this? And she's definitely Eye aligned. Does she like experiments?”

“I was going to introduce everyone… I lost track of time…” Realization flashed into his head, and Jon rounded on his friends. “You fuckers got me info-dumping on purpose so I wouldn’t have time to hide my wings!”

“Yup!” “Pretty much.” “Correct!”

“I mean, you don’t have to hide them from us. Tea?” Martin piped up, handing Jon a cup. “And how do you all take yours? I’m Martin Blackwood, by the way.” Martin hoped his smile wasn’t shaky, because all these people looked very intimidating. They all smiled back, giving their tea preferences. 

“I’m Tim, Timothy Stoker!” Tim shot, already heading to grab his own tea from the counter. He tipped his mug, a garish red and blue landscape depicted on it, to them as he headed back to sit on his desk. “And may we know your names, spooky strangers?”

“Right,” Jon spoke, “These three have agreed to help you all get used to the supernatural in the field. This,” He gestured to the winged woman, “Is Raphaella La Cagnizi, scie- Avatar of the Eye. It seems she has already decided to accompany you, Sasha. No experiments without supervision. And none on my Assistants, Raph.”

“Of course! Does Sasha count as supervision?”

“No.”

“I should, what kind of experiments?”

“No! Not yet, at least.”

After wrangling the two very excited women into sitting through the rest of the introductions, Jon continued. The other two had been quietly laughing the whole time. 

“This is Marius Von Raum, he is not an avatar, but he has a wealth of experience and medical training.”

“Mostly on you and Tim, er, our Tim anyway!” Marius teased, ignoring Jon’s sputtering protests. Instead, he turned to the Assistants and bowed. “A pleasure to meet you all! Jon’s rambled about you!”

“Marius!”

“Anyway, I don’t mind who i work with, but if anyone gets hurt a lot that's probably my charge!”

Tim grinned, raising his hand. “Pick me!”

“Got it, tall one! Please don’t give me as much trouble as Gunpowder, er, our Tim.”

  
  


After a long sigh, Jon motioned the final figure forward. “This is Brian Werwick, Avatar of the Web. He has minor prophetic abilities. He’ll be accompanying Martin, then."

“Hello, nice to meet you all.” Brian smiled, nodding to them. “And before you ask, I can’t read your future. It's more like, backwards vibrations along the threads of life.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The mechs: Listening to Jon infodump because they prompted him  
> Jon: Forgets time exists  
> Martin: Gay panic bc Jon has pretty wings and is pretty in general   
> Me: A demiromantic Asexual trying to write forms of attraction I don't experience so defaults to aesthetic


	14. When the Assistants are away, doubt comes to play

_ “You don’t need to hide them.” _

Those words had been echoing through his head since Martin said them. It couldn’t be right. But Jon Knew he was being honest. Humans fear and hate the unfamiliar, the odd. He is strange and unknown to them, so they must fear and hate him, right?

_ “Does that include you?”  _

They had been so open with him, even after learning he literally wasn’t human. After learning that he was of something horrific and unknowable beyond. Did he even deserve that? That open, willing companionship?

_ “It's not like we’re telling you our deepest desires, Bossman. Plus, I was gonna tell you anyway.” _

He had friends who trusted him, why should this be different? They were out right now, helping his Assistants. Why should it be different? Why did it Feel so different?

_ “So what's this about not being able to quit?” _

Right, it was their job to be around him. One of them was trapped in it. They were in constant danger because he needed, the Archivist needed, Assistants. They did not enter gradually into this world, they didn’t belong. Not Tim and Sasha. Martin could live a life oblivious of his spider silk. They Knew because of him.

_ “Just let us know if you need anything, that's what we’re here for.” _

They were so kind. So, so, so kind. It hurt, it sent pain stabbing through his crystalline heart like cracks and splinters. The eyes in his veins blinked slowly to him, humming a soft and soothing rhythm.  _ I am here with you, _ it said.  _ You are not remembering the right things. _

* * *

_ Tim grinned over his mug, mischief dancing in his eyes like stars. “What number am I thinking, Bossman?” _

_ “One hundred and three, point six.” Jon shot back before freezing up. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”  _

_ “Chill out, it's fine!” Tim called back, an easy smile on his face. “I asked, and it's a pretty neat party trick.” _

* * *

  
  


_ “Jon, why are you hiding back here?” Martin asked, concern clear on his face. _

_ “Ah, the um, the Knowing is loud today.” He mumbled back, tucked between the shelves in document storage. “Being around so many Statements, it dampens it.”  _

_ “Oh, would you like some tea?” Martin offers before stiffening. “Er, I mean I don't think it's allowed in here, but I can put it in your office when you're ready? Or I could bring you a blanket, I think there's one in the breakroom?” _

_ “Tea would be nice, thank you.” Jon did his best to smile. “I’ll be alright in a little while.” _

* * *

  
  


_ “The first aid kit is in the break room, Sasha.” Jon muttered. “Second drawer to the right of the sink.” _

_ “Oh, right.” she looked surprised, but hadn’t she just asked- _

_ “Sorry,” He muttered, “I didn’t realize, er, i thought you said it out loud.” _

_ “It's okay, pretty handy in honesty.” she smiled sweetly, “I probably would have spent a while looking before i asked.” _

* * *

  
  


_ “So, can you see through all of your eyes?” Sasha asked, curiosity in her eyes. _

_ “Yes.” Jon answered, “I can also see through ones I've drawn or made.” _

_ “Sounds like a headache.” Tim interjected. _

_ “It was, when they first came in. Felt far worse than any hangover for a few days.” Jon supplied with a grimace. Tim nodded sagely at him.  _

_ “I’m glad it doesn’t anymore.” Martin added, smiling faintly. “How did you figure out the seeing through the eyes you draw, though?” _

_ “Set making for my band.” He replied mildly, chuckling at the memory.  _

_ “You're in a band?!” Tim and Sasha practically shouted, surprise and elation clouding their features. Jon decided he regretted sharing that information, but not much.  _

* * *

  
  


Right, they cared. He deserved to be cared about. They liked being around him. The cracks in his heart began to ease, sealed up by mist and stars and eyes.

Perhaps he’d go with them to lunch, next time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jon: self doubt  
> The Beholding: Nope its good memory time, son


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning:   
> Worms, of the canon typical variety

Something was wrong, and it wasn’t Micheal hanging out in Jon’s office. He could feel a slow thrum of Knowing, gently urging him to Watch Martin. But that would be rude, right? Humans were very particular. 

Yet something squirmed, thrashed and scuttled and-

_ The Hive was behind him, he knew it was. They had to run! _

_ “This way!” Brian shouted, pulling thin webs through the darkness of the subway station. “We have to get back to the Archives!” _

_ Silver wriggled and seethed behind him like a wave, slow and methodical across the tiled floor. She was close, too close. He could feel the worms leaping at his feel, trying to chew their way through his shoes. Razer teeth nipping at his ankles, drawing thin lines of blood. The flesh worms would rend him from his bones, they would leave nothing but polished white. _

_ “I- I can’t.” He cried, tears threatening to escape. He would never make it- _

“Martin!” Jon’s cry of distress caused Micheal to fall from the desk in front of him.

“Back with us, Archivist? What's wrong?”

“I need a Door! Martin, Brian- the Corruption's Hive, one of them- chasing-” His breathing was halted, every eye wide in panic, pleading.

“Where?” Micheal’s smile-frown was splitting it’s face. 

* * *

Elias Watched with a smile. Jon was growing, good. He’d have to set up precautions, now that he could be pulled into Seeing, but that was fine. Hopefully, it would help break his humanitarian streak. A child of the Ceaseless Watcher should care for nothing but fear, after all. 

The man took a moment to think back, far back. Before this body, this identity, to his own youth. He was over such trivial things already, by Jon’s age, but a hold up or two was expected. It was in his nature to be slow, observe before changing. 

The Eye had been more active than ever, since Jon’s birth. That did not change its nature. It was still an observer, and it watched Elias plot. It did not understand that this may hurt its child, so it did nothing.

Elias took that as encouragement, as he always did. 

* * *

Brian sensed his webs warp as the Door opened, acidic yellow against the grimy stone wall. There was a hissing shatter that ripped through the Webs as Jon rushed out, eyes frantic.

“Into the Door, now!”

They did not have time to shudder at the winding of the passageway beyond, nor how the floor slipped and stuck as they entered. Martin and Brian followed him quickly, as the world broke away into endless walls and swirling patterns. 

It was better than the worms. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jon: Trying to respect people's boundaries  
> Elias: "Is this a rebellious phase???"


	16. Poor Martin...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning:  
> Descriptions of the Corruption  
> Descriptions of the Spiral  
> Eluded to injury  
> Spiders

Martin was having a day. At first it had been a good day, with a cheery greeting from his coworkers and temporary spooks. Even Jon had offered a short hello. He even got a follow up on spiders! Brain had shared his excitement, though much more subtly. 

“I’m sure they spun lovely webs.” He had said, and Martin Understood the love in his voice.

Then, he was having a really, really bad day. The webs had been lovely, once. Now they were sticky and sweet in the worst way. The basement smelled like rotting candy and bad decisions. The woman looked like a nightmare wrapped in recycled fear bating.

“This place is Rotten, we need to go!” Brian yelled, and Martin remembered Jon’s ramblings on the toxic, creeping nature of the Corruption. 

They ran, and Martin’s day got worse. At first, they lost her. Then she found them in the train station. It had felt Wrong, more wrong than he had ever felt before. He could tell Brian Felt something too, though his face scrunched up and he insisted on the subway. 

Then his day got so, so bad. He was going to die, eaten by horrific little worms and no one would know. He Hated those worms, all silver, squirming and Wrong. They Felt like creeping decay on his skin when they got close.

“Into the Door, now!” Jon had shouted, stumbling out of a Door That Was Not There. His eyes had been all open, pools of deep brown from all over his face and down his neck. Martin had wondered if there were any on his covered arms or chest, when he saw the open ones on the backs of his hands.

They entered the Door and suddenly things Felt different. Not Right. Yet they did not Feel Wrong, they did feel very off though. Everything was long and shifting and short so suddenly. Then Jon had pulled him through another Door That Shouldn't Be There. 

Now, Martin was having a good day. Sure the start really, really sucked but Jon had hugged him tightly, wings appearing to wrap around him like a feathery coat. The wings looked different up close, transparent feathers looked ghostlike and wispy. Yet they were soft and smooth with the touch. 

Jon was different, too. After he let go, which Martin honestly wished he hadn’t, he had checked Martin over for Worms. They didn’t find any, so he had turned to fretting over Brian. Martin almost wished- No, Jon’s attention was really nice, but those worms were the worst. 

Unfortunately for Brian, a few had gotten him. Micheal pulled them out.

“Don’t worry so much, Jonny.” Brian said with a pained smile and Jon bandaged his legs. “We both Know I’ll be fine in a few hours.”

“I don’t care, you’ll bleed on the floor.” Jon griped.

“What?” Martin gasped, trying to puzzle out the interaction. 

Brian just grinned and gestured to his legs. A few spiders had begun to scuttle up them. Jon rolled his eyes. Micheal chuckled and it made Martin’s head hurt faintly.

“You two rest.” Jon commanded, shooting Brian another pointed look. “I’m going to contact the others. Hopefully we can deal with the Hive sooner than later.”

“Hive?” Martin asked, confused.

“Jane Printess, the Hive that attacked you. Ah, sorry, right.” He mumbled, realization flashing in his many eyes. Martin noted that the ones on his hands and neck had closed, and the skin looked completely smooth. He wondered how that worked. “A Hive is a type of Avatar for the Rot. An Infestation in humanoid form, so to speak. The ultimate parasitic, obsessive relationship.”

“Oh…” Martin shivered, remembering the way Jane’s eyes had shifted, like there was something behind them. “So you're going to tell Tim and Sasha?”

“Yes, when they get back.” was his brisk reply. “But I’m going to call in some other friends with more experience. One of you caught her eye, she wouldn’t have followed you to the station otherwise.”

Maybe Martin’s day wasn’t so good after all… 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Martin, but at least I'm not as mean as canon is to him... yet. Don't worry about that though! My plans will be fun!  
> Also the idea of the Hives really fascinates me, because they're like a personification of unhealthy relationships with one's self.


	17. So the spooks are having a meeting...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning  
> discussion of spiders  
> vague descriptions of spiders  
> illusions to violence

To say that Tim and Sasha hadn’t expected to be called back due to supernatural bug problems was an understatement. Marius’s reaction to Jon’s call had been… emotive to say the least, while Raphaelle had been rather excited. As they entered the Archives, the two shared a look.

The room was crowded, at least more so than they had ever seen it. Several people, who their spooks quickly joined, were completely surrounding Jon by a whiteboard that definitely wasn’t there before. He was talking frantically, wings puffed up in distress. A particularly stern looking woman had an arm over his shoulders, eyes zeroed in on his movements like she was studying him. 

“It's pretty frantic around here.” Martin said, walking in from the break room with a mug of tea. “How did your follow ups go?”

“Apparently swimmingly, since there were no creepy worms.” Tim joked, before laying a hand on Martin’s shoulder. “You okay? Jon said you were fine, but are you?”

Sasha nodded behind him, eyes flitting back to the odd group every once and a while. “None of them got you, right? Jon mentioned the flesh eating bit.”

“I- I’m alright. Shaken up, sure, but fine.” his smile was weak, and neither looked convinced. “Really! I’m okay. Jon said he’d make sure someone could stay with me until she’s taken care of, someone good at getting rid of spooky stuff.”

“Or you could stay at our place. We have a very comfortable couch.” Sasha offered.

“Trust me, I used to crash there all the time before we moved in together.” Tim added.

“That's sweet, but Jon’s worried she might look for me. I don’t want to put you two in any danger.” That brought another wave of concerned questions, and if not for the spider martin had left crawling in his hair, he might have been overwhelmed.

Spiders were nice to him, they had been since he was a child. He knew how unsettling the feeling of them crawling around was to others, but it had always calmed him. Maybe that's why he put them in his hair, let them crawl over his arms and shoulders whenever he found one. Maybe it was how they seemed to whisper quite reassurance, or how the webs they spun made his hair shine and shimmer in a way that didn’t fade, even after he washed it.

Regardless, he liked spiders. He had named the one currently nestled in his locks Night, as it was dark with little specks of white. He didn’t know what kind of spider it was, but he wasn’t worried. No spiders had bit him for years, even when he startled them. 

“Martin, martin you okay there?” Tim's concerned voice brought him back. He nodded, giving the worried man a small smile.

“I’m okay, just thinking. What about you, are you alright?”

“Really, you nearly get eaten by worms and you're asking if I'm alright? I’m not the one who encountered a hostile spook, Marto!” Tim grinned, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Sasha went to see if she can add anything to the spooky conference, by the way. Why don’t we just chill out and not think about creepy worm ladies, yeah?

“Okay? What should we talk about then?”

“Well, I never guessed you’d be the type to like wings. I get it though, they are pretty.”

“Tim!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: thinks spiders are cute but is v scared of getting bitten  
> Me: gives martin all the spiddery frens who will never hurt him  
> Me: "Ah, yes. Self care."
> 
> -
> 
> Tim: So lets talk about how you obviously like Jon  
> Martin: TiM, nO!


	18. Jon Introspects and Nastya is a good

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning:  
> Emotional distress  
> Mentions of spiders

Jon was stressed. People talked around him, but he was focused on the static in his head. Of all things, it had to be Corruption. One that could not be bartered or persuaded, something of instinct and emotion. Only the Slaughter would be worse… 

The Eye pressed comfort and reassurance through their connection, gently trying to quite the buzz of ideas and fears. It kept him just calm enough, breath steady but eyes still unfocused and mind still a frenzy. 

“-n, Jon. Let's get you out of that head of yours, yeah?” Nastya muttered, gently shaking him.

“What? Do you need something?”

“It's you who needs to relax. We’re as safe as we’ll get here, remember? In a literal place of your parent’s power.” She chuckled, carefully guiding him to sit on a nearby stool. “I’ll have the spider charmer make you some tea, he knows how you like it, yes?”

“Martin? Yes, he does.” he mumbled back, confused. He hadn’t told Nastya that Martin was connected to the web.

“He’s always got one in that hair of his.” She commented, catching his confusion. “They sing louder around him, like with Aurora.”

Then Jon was sitting alone, watching his crew and Sasha debate and converse. She had joined them some time ago, when he had still been able to listen. But they were loud, so he closed his mind to sound. Instead he watched, watched how she easily slipped into their dynamic and seemed to bring up points they would never think of. 

That was nice, so far they had all gotten along. One less worry for him. Perhaps she’d come to one of their shows one day, he knew she enjoyed a good tragedy. He knew Tim would come, if he invited him or not. Jon wasn’t sure if Martin would like the atmosphere, but he hoped he would. 

They would probably all enjoy the dramatics of it all, if their comments and references to musical theater were any indication. He knew Tim shared his appreciation for mythology. They had gotten into several long winded conversations about it in the past. He remembered the most recent, which Sasha had joined out of amusement, during lunch a few days ago.

Gods… It had been less than two months since their entire understanding of the universe had been tipped sideways, and now this? They were all so… not calm exactly, but they had adapted so quickly! He didn’t understand, how could one simply accept things like that? Just, ‘Hey, there are entities beyond your capability to understand that feed on fear!’ and they rolled with it.

He Knew that wasn’t quite how it all went. Sasha and Tim had come in with red rimmed eyes for days, not to mention the bags from lack of sleep, and Martin was clearly alarmed by his own ease of acceptance. Still, he had grown up knowing and it still sent him off balance at times. 

“Um, someone told me you could use some tea?” When had Martin gotten there?

“Right, thank you.” His voice was thin, colors stretched and pale. Martin gave him a smile, small but reassuring, as the spider in his hair sang soothingly. 

“Don’t worry too much, okay?” His voice looked like snow, Jon noted. He had been trying to figure it out for ages. Almost mist, but not quite. A fine, ever so gentle snow. He would have to write that in his book. “Stressing yourself won’t do us any good, I can practically feel your worry from here.”

“You probably can.” He muttered, half paying attention. “It's a very common trait among the Web.”

“What?”

Oh, right… Martin didn’t realize. Jon froze, avoiding Martin’s critical look and instead chose to slowly and deliberately drink his tea.

“Jon, what do you mean?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And another secret is discovered, kinda!
> 
> Also its important to me that yall know Nastya taught Jon grounding exercises in this universe, back when they were in college. They also have monthly movie nights with the rest of the crew, Aurora included, plus Gerry and Micheal. None of that is relevant, but it is canon to this universe.


	19. A conversation is had

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning:  
> mentions of spiders  
> emotional distress

Martin was used to being watched now. He had noticed it, how Jon’s eyes followed his Assistants whenever they could. It didn’t even seem like a conscious decision, nor did it Feel like one. Martin knew to trust his Feelings at this point, they had never lied to him thus far.

Right now, Jon Felt like fear and self hatred. It made Martin a little sick, he didn’t want Jon to feel that, ever. Yet he was, Martin could sense it. And all from a simple, well deserved question. Why? Why was it a bad question?

Martin shifted, going to place a gentle hand on Jon’s shoulder. The other man shrank into himself, eyes still not raising from his mug. He looked so small, so frail like that, like a breeze would catch his wings and he’d be gone.

“Jon, I’m not upset.” He put as much calmness into his words as he could. “I just want to understand.”

“I know.” Jon’s voice was chipped, measured. “You… you suspected something, right? About how this all feels natural?”

“Yes, I did. So please, help me understand.” Martin was already putting things together. He had an inkling, he had for a while, that he wasn’t human anymore. Not strictly, at least. Humans can’t usually hear spiders singing, or pull webs apart strand by strand with ease. But he needed Jon to say it, because Jon Knew.

“You… When we met you were already an Avatar of the Web. It's a tricky thing, the Spider. She works slow, subtle. You probably didn’t even notice when you died.” Jon’s voice was soft, nearly a whisper as he spoke.

That made sense, Martin thought. Perhaps it had been a few years ago, when he got rather ill. Maybe it was the time he fainted a few months before his promotion to the archives. It could have happened in his childhood. 

“Okay, thank you for telling me.” it was easy to smile as he said that. He didn’t feel surprised, or upset for that matter. Simply… a quiet settling of relief and realization. 

“Okay, that's it?!” Jon, clearly, was less calm. “I’ve just told you that you probably haven’t been human for years and it's just okay?”

“Yes, I think it is.” Martin kept smiling, a small and soft expression, as he gently fished the spider from his hair. He looked at it for a moment, before his gaze turned back to Jon. Jon stared back, which was better in Martin’s mind. It meant Jon was feeling well enough to Watch. “I’m okay, it's not as if I’m any different than I was a few minutes ago.”

Jon stared, looking as if he wanted to say something, but he didn’t. Instead, he mustered up a tense smile before returning to his tea. The silence grew shallow and comforting, the gentle background of quiet discussion from the other end of the room filling the space.

  
  


The quiet was broken by Tim shrinking and throwing a book to the floor.

“Worm, creepy silver worm with teeth!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, hey its Martin's turn to be projected on!


	20. And time drones on

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings:  
> Worms  
> Mentions of fire  
> Mentions of spiders
> 
> This chapter is mostly just some fun fluff, bc I can and Its not time yet.

Panic shredded through the Archive for the next week. Worms kept finding their way in, somehow. At this point, each of them had a designated worm squishing object. Tim had started burning the tiny bodies outside, “to make a statement to their kin”. His joy in the flames did not surprise Jon. 

Micheal had made a habit of opening its door under any groups of worms it found, and had been found playing with their corpses multiple times. This unsettled the assistants slightly, but Jon had simply asked it not to play in the Archives.

* * *

“I’m just saying, we should get pocket fire extinguishers!” Tim exclaimed.

“Do they even make those? We have plenty of regular sized ones. I think I caught Ivy sneaking more down yesterday.” Martin replied.

“I can confirm that.” Jon drawled from the other side of the room.

“Thanks, spooky google.”

“Your nickname game is dying, Tim.”

“How dare you! My nicknames are perfect!”

* * *

Despite the uneasy environment, Sasha managed to convince everyone to go out together one evening. Jon caved surprisingly easily, stating he hadn’t gotten to go drinking in a while. This, of course, shocked Tim and set him questioning Jon’s habits outside of work.

And so the night became interrogate-Jon-about-his-personal-life night. As soon as they all had their drinks, settled in a warm, cozy bar of Sasha’s choosing, the questions started. He went along with it, the familiar feeling of comfortable curiosity settling over his heart.

The answers surprised them more than Jon thought appropriate.

“I’m sure we’ve talked about the band around the Archives…” He muttered, “We slip up and call each other ‘crew’ or by our titles often.”

“Is that why they call you ‘Jonny’ sometimes?” Martin asked, still polite even now that he was a bit tipsy. 

“Correct, Jonny D’ville is my stage name.” He replied, taking a long sip of his drink. “Most of the others just went with their own names, at least partially. Except Nicola, she created a whole separate identity for the band, to be honest. I mean, we all play a characterized version of ourselves, but Basira and her went full on.”

“I’ve never heard of people making characters in a band. Is there a reason? I’m guessing you guys have a theme, with the whole crew thing.” Sasha piped up, leaning over the table.

“Ah, we do.” Jon paused, knowing he would at least regret telling them a little. It didn’t matter though, they’d end up getting invited to a show one way or another. “But I’m not going to tell you.”

This led to a while of complaining, mostly on Tim’s part.

* * *

Brian visited the Archives a lot, often pulling Martin away to basically train him. Jon had suggested it, and Martin quite enjoyed being able to spend working hours talking to spiders and weaving iridescent silk. He made Jon a blanket as thanks. Now he just had to give it to him….

The first time he tried was when bringing the group their morning tea. The thin, shimmering cloth was neatly folded in his bag, safe at his desk.

“Teas up!” He called, pulling their focus away from Sasha’s desk. Jon had several of his eyes open, drooping slightly and clearly very tired. Too bad his wings weren’t out, they were so pretty. Jon was pretty in general, in a tired and fragile way. He was thin, weary looking with smooth, dark skin and inkwell eyes. The dark, academic clothing he wore made him seem to melt into the Archives themselves. 

And- oh, everyone had taken their tea already, the chorus of thank yous snapping Martin out of his thoughts. Jon shot him a small smile before heading into his office to start recording statements.

The blanket was still in his bag. He would have to try again later. Brian grinned a knowing grin when they practiced that day.

“I’m sure he’ll like it.” He commented. “Jon loves handmade gifts and shiny things.”

“I hope he likes it…” Martin mused, “Though maybe I should have made him a scarf…”

“Why?”

“He would look pretty in one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Martin: learns he can make durable, pretty cloth out of spider silk.
> 
> Martin: makes something for Jon
> 
> Brian, smirking in a corner with a bunch of spiders: "Ah, young love...."


End file.
